Real indies write in Moleskines. In pencil (that's more indie you see...)
If they have a Macbook they carry it in their vintage-chic bohemian bag or a cotton bookbag branded with some obscure intellectual/ironic quote "WE did not. right HERE"
The true indie doesn't even listen to indie music. Now that it has legitimigised itself as its own autonomous genre the indie is forever seeking out a more underground and unconventional music style to fulfil their audial requirements. They need not even like the music, the more disliked it is- the better. Vampire Weekend does not count.
Indies proclaim a love of Gonzo journalism, not entirely sure of exactly what it is, when questioned about it they say "well it's all aesthetics isn't it" (uh huh... yes I'm sure it is...). They usually have a limited understanding of the current state of politics as they generally are living circa 1970's-1990's in some vicarious form- through philosophy, dress or obsession with the intellectual discourse of the time. Also, if you haven't figured this out by now- all indies are smart. Yes. Genius even.
Some indies like to pretend that they are dressed in op-shop clothes. This is usually a lie and their outfit is usually a very stylised concoction of zambesi pieces and vintage designer labels. Other indies would have you believe that they do not own mirrors. This too, is a lie. They like to look like bag ladies.
Indies also never eat. This applies to both males and females. FAT IS NOT OKAY PEOPLE
Wish you were indie?
x
Tuesday, August 17, 2010
Tuesday, August 10, 2010
Books are my boyfriend
Sad, but true. Books are far easier than people to deal with- for starters they don't talk back, it's their job to entertain you and you can shut them and put them away and pick them up again whenever it is most convenient for you.
You don't have to worry about being witty or cute or whatever romantic stereotype you're supposed to fulfil, hey, you don't even have to look decent to date your bounded, paged, typefaced friend. Books aren't needy or jealous, they don't play whacky mind games with you and they are also portable- able to be taken anywhere, by train, car, boat or plane without the bother of having to fork out extra cash. Books are also very economically viable, they don't eat or drink, require Birthday or Christmas presents and if you get bored of a book you can always get a bit of cash back by exchanging him at your local second bookshop. The range of books is also extensive... interested in a wild romance, a easy to read best seller, a handsome mysterious crime novel, all can be acquired within your local bookstore shelf...
Are you weirded out yet? I'm actually not insane (I swear this statement is becoming more and more necessary in these posts) I think just lazy. My tolerance and patience to deal with another human being is between zero and .... well, zero. Maybe I should re-ignite the cat lady dream, I figure if you're going to be a spinster you may as well do it on a grandiose scale...
Being an old lady with a house full of books is nowhere near as exciting as abusing your neighbours from a rickety rocking chair on your front veranda with a small army of cats negotiating their way through your overgrown front garden... to quote the model of this dream, Mrs Dubose, as found in Harper Lee's 'To Kill a Mockingbird', "Don;t say hey to me you ugly girl!"
You don't have to worry about being witty or cute or whatever romantic stereotype you're supposed to fulfil, hey, you don't even have to look decent to date your bounded, paged, typefaced friend. Books aren't needy or jealous, they don't play whacky mind games with you and they are also portable- able to be taken anywhere, by train, car, boat or plane without the bother of having to fork out extra cash. Books are also very economically viable, they don't eat or drink, require Birthday or Christmas presents and if you get bored of a book you can always get a bit of cash back by exchanging him at your local second bookshop. The range of books is also extensive... interested in a wild romance, a easy to read best seller, a handsome mysterious crime novel, all can be acquired within your local bookstore shelf...
Are you weirded out yet? I'm actually not insane (I swear this statement is becoming more and more necessary in these posts) I think just lazy. My tolerance and patience to deal with another human being is between zero and .... well, zero. Maybe I should re-ignite the cat lady dream, I figure if you're going to be a spinster you may as well do it on a grandiose scale...
Being an old lady with a house full of books is nowhere near as exciting as abusing your neighbours from a rickety rocking chair on your front veranda with a small army of cats negotiating their way through your overgrown front garden... to quote the model of this dream, Mrs Dubose, as found in Harper Lee's 'To Kill a Mockingbird', "Don;t say hey to me you ugly girl!"
Thursday, August 5, 2010
Curiouser and Curiouser...
We all know as a humans, we're a pretty weird kind of species. Behaviour- pretty odd. Aesthetics- below average for most. Intelligence- dubious in all cases. I am starting to see however, that people are a touch (or 5 touches) more crazy than you usually give them credit for.
I have been exposed to all kind of whacky behaviour of recent... not to say that in using "exposed" I am discounting myself in anyway from the aforementioned whacky behaviour- it is, after all, pretty clear I'm a few screws short in a variety of areas (not to go into too many specifics but... directional abilities, sight, hearing, stair ascendancy and descendancy, sleeping, obsessions with wizards etc etc). But, I digress, the whacky behaviour of others has led me to question the sanity of people... why the hell do some people make the decisions that they do? Given a set of circumstances, recent experience would suggest to me that the human race likes to screw things up as much as possible- taking the most precarious route to come to a decision, ultimately ignoring other people entirely slash committing themselves to a situation that one could only assume they enjoy as some sort of sadistic pleasure.
This onslaught of the very euphemistically labeled 'curious' behaviour is seriously starting to grind my gears. Weirdo, whacko, selective behaviour is just pretty herp to tell you the truth. They have drugs for your multiple personalities and obvious anxiety issues and insecurities. Hook yourself up with those pretty little balls of happiness. Talk to your doctor, consult the local crack-fiend... whatever it takes. SORT IT OUT.
x
I have been exposed to all kind of whacky behaviour of recent... not to say that in using "exposed" I am discounting myself in anyway from the aforementioned whacky behaviour- it is, after all, pretty clear I'm a few screws short in a variety of areas (not to go into too many specifics but... directional abilities, sight, hearing, stair ascendancy and descendancy, sleeping, obsessions with wizards etc etc). But, I digress, the whacky behaviour of others has led me to question the sanity of people... why the hell do some people make the decisions that they do? Given a set of circumstances, recent experience would suggest to me that the human race likes to screw things up as much as possible- taking the most precarious route to come to a decision, ultimately ignoring other people entirely slash committing themselves to a situation that one could only assume they enjoy as some sort of sadistic pleasure.
This onslaught of the very euphemistically labeled 'curious' behaviour is seriously starting to grind my gears. Weirdo, whacko, selective behaviour is just pretty herp to tell you the truth. They have drugs for your multiple personalities and obvious anxiety issues and insecurities. Hook yourself up with those pretty little balls of happiness. Talk to your doctor, consult the local crack-fiend... whatever it takes. SORT IT OUT.
x
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